


The Significance of the Grapefruit (or Pulp and Grind)

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Sex in a Car, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: You’re avoiding Cas. Dean explains why. You go fix it.





	The Significance of the Grapefruit (or Pulp and Grind)

**Author's Note:**

> This is primarily for the @spnfanficpond‘s Galentine’s Day Exchange, written for @trollhunter94! My muse, however, took a powder, hence why this is late, and I’m officially THE WORST. Last night, I decided to beat her (my muse, not Lisa) over the head with prompts from the Pond’s S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, and she one-upped me by spitting out this fic, which includes one prompt from each week, weeks 8 through 13. Instead of listing them all here, I’m just gonna bold them in the text. (If nothing else, I now have ONE story to add to all of those masterposts.) Special thanks to Tiffany @butiaintgonnaloveem, who read over this and came up with the alternate title!

You stuck your head into the kitchen, and upon seeing the person you were actively trying to avoid, you pulled it back out and proceeded to beat a hasty retreat. Unfortunately, Dean saw you and chased after you.

“Hey! Y/N!” he called, running after you until he caught up, which didn't take much since you were trying to look nonchalant and he had such a long stride. “Haven't seen you in days! What's going on, kiddo?”

“Nothing!” you replied, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“Then, where're you goin’? You don't want to hang out with us, anymore?” Dean looked a little sad at that, and you regretted making him feel that way. After all, he wasn't the one you were trying to avoid.

“It's not that, Dean. You know I always love hanging out with you,” you said, leaning into his side affectionately. “I'm, uh, just going on a supply run! Need, ya know, supplies… food… and stuff.”

“We've got plenty of food in the kitchen, and it's snowing outside, so are you sure?” Dean's face flushed. “I mean, if you need  _supplies_ ….” His face found an even darker shade of red.

“Not really. I just want food that isn't burgers and pie, you know?”

Dean grimaced at you, positively aghast. “Not pie??  _How dare you?!?”_

You giggled and waved him off. “I have to keep my figure, you know? Need to eat rabbit food every once in a while,” you explained.

“Well, I guess I could drive you. Charlie's old Bug just isn't gonna cut it out there, right now.”

When Charlie had died, you'd inherited her car. It reminded you of your friend and didn’t attract a lot of attention, in spite of its color. Dean was right, though. If it was snowing, the bright yellow car would not be an option. But making Dean drive Baby and risking both your lives and the car seemed excessive when you really didn't need anything.

Ugh.

“If it's that bad outside, I guess I can wait.” You took a deep breath and sighed. “I'll just head back to my room and finish watching Marie Kondo, I guess….”

“Who what, now?”

“Marie Kondo,” you answered. “She’s this tiny little Japanese lady who’s annoyingly adorable and loves cleaning up other people’s houses. Every instinct I have says she should grate on me, but I find her surprisingly calming.”

“I’ll come watch with you!” Dean said, sounding oddly excited. You shrugged your shoulders while he ran to grab some popcorn.

The two of you settled onto your bed, your laptop sitting between you, passing the popcorn back and forth. The quiet lasted about ten minutes.

“Is this it? She just goes into people’s houses and teaches them how to clean?” Dean seemed dubious.

“Yup.” You looked over at Dean. “She’s not one of your animated erotica girls, Dean. At no point in this is she gonna take off her clothes. Japanese people do stuff other than porn, you know.”

Dean’s face fell, then turned red, then screwed up into an innocent expression. “So, why have you been hiding out in here, huh? Ever since we got back from the last hunt and celebrated, you’ve been avoiding everyone. What gives?”

You could give Dean some serious side eye for changing the subject, but you weren’t in the mood to discuss porn, anyway. Unfortunately, you really didn’t want to discuss your drunken mistakes, either.

“I’m not avoiding you. Just chillin’ out, you know? Relaxing? Seeing how people who actually own shit deal with having too much of it?”  _Staying out of a certain angel’s way._

“Bullshit,” Dean stated. “You’re avoiding something or someone, so spill.” When you showed no sign of breaking, he huffed. “Whatever you’re not telling me is definitely not sparking joy inside of you, so thank it and let it go,” he said with a dramatic wave of his arms. Your bitch face didn’t bother him in the least. Sam had made him immune. “Talk!” he demanded.

“Fine!” you relented, shutting the laptop. “So, after everyone else left the other night, it was just me and Cas drinking my whiskey and playing cards, right? I was having trouble remembering what beat what after the drinking I’d already done with you guys, and then another three or four whiskeys on top of that, so we switched to Go Fish. Pretty soon, he starts asking me questions about my past relationships and then starts telling me about that reaper he banged when he was human and how it made him feel.” Your face twisted into a grimace.

Dean’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

A scowl on your face, you pushed him to figure out what you had figured out. “Dean, he was talking like he was drunk, slurring his words, leaning against the table, and babbling about this woman.  **After about whiskey number five, it hit me.** ”

Dean raised his eyebrows, obviously not understanding where you were going.

Your eyes rolled and you sighed. “Angels don’t get drunk off a handful of whiskeys, Dean! There he was, sitting across from me, pretending to be drunk, talking about some other woman and quizzing me about my past, and I just can’t figure out why! Why pretend to be drunk, when all he had was water and a few whiskeys? Why talk about our past relationships?” You slumped against your friend, dropping your head to stare at your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I thought he was something special, but it turns out he’s just a regular, asshole guy with wings, I guess.” You waved your hand to push the whole subject away. “I’d just rather be alone in my room than find out why he felt the need to be so awful.”

Dean shifted next to you, almost squirming in his seat. When he saw a couple of tears fall onto your cheeks, he wrapped his arms around you and sputtered, “Don’t cry, Jesus Christ, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I can’t take it when you cry, dammit.”

Pulling away almost violently, you glared at your friend. “Wasn’t supposed to say what, Dean?” you growled.

His face contorted a few different ways before he finally broke. “He was  _actually_  drunk. He wasn’t drinking water all night, he was drinking Everclear.” Dean’s cheeks warmed and he chuckled wryly. “I gave it to him because I thought he needed some liquid courage. I guess I gave him too much.”

“Liquid courage for  _what??_ ” you exclaimed, your voice getting shriller by the minute.

“I told him he should try and figure out what kinds of things you like in guys, and I suggested Never Have I Ever, but he didn’t like that idea, I guess, but must have zeroed in on the whole ‘drunken confessions’ kind of thing a little too much?”

 _“Why would he want to know what I like in guys, Dean?”_  Your voice has switched from shrill to dangerous, and Dean noticed. He shrank back a bit and tried to look innocent.

“Look, I’m not supposed to--”

_“WHY, DEAN?”_

“He likes you, okay? A lot. But he never got the hang of the whole human getting-to-know-you thing, because he went from zero to banging a reaper who tried to kill him in record time. He’s never liked someone who wasn’t already chasing him down. I could tell you liked him, but you weren’t making a move, you know?”

Dean’s adorable  _please-don’t-kill-me_  face was doing its job. You no longer wanted to kill him. Mostly.

“He likes me?”

Dean nodded, his mouth in an adorable pout and his eyes wide. “He’s been hiding it the past couple days, but he’s been quieter than usual. I just thought he was moping because you were hiding out, though. Didn’t realize he crashed and burned.”

 _“He told me that April was a considerate teacher in the art of lovemaking, but it took him several cleanings to get all of the grapefruit pulp off of his angel blade,”_ you hissed. Dean’s horrified expression at your statement almost made you want to laugh, but the situation was too unsettling. “Dean, I don’t even know what that means!!” you fumed, throwing your hands into the air. “Obviously, I have to take the first step, but how do I do that while I’m wondering what’s grapefruit got to do with it???”

Dean burst into a fit of giggles, taking you with him when the absurdity of the whole thing finally hit you. After a few minutes of gasps and giggles, you both finally calmed down, and Dean gave you a comforting hug.

“You’ll figure it out, Tina Turner. I know you will. Then, you’ll have to explain it to Cas, but you’ll figure that out, too.”

“I just need the secret decoder ring, right?” you joked, pulling away from Dean and sighing.

“I hear **the secret password is Cookietacular** ,” Dean replied, swatting your arm gently before he left you to think.

An hour later, you texted Cas and asked him to meet you by the garage doors. You pulled out the gorgeous mint green 1956 Ford Thunderbird convertible that Dean had just finished fixing up, parking it right by the outside entrance to the garage with the big doors open so you could watch the snow. A blanket covered the hood to protect the paint job, and you settled on top of it, shivering a little but enjoying the view.

  


When Cas appeared, you waved for him to join you, but he looked warily at the car. “ **It’s a big trunk** \--”

“Hood,” you corrected quietly.

“--hood, but I worry about us both being up there.”

You shrugged and slid down, grabbing the blanket and moving instead to the inside of the car. It was a two-seater, with a lovely bench seat just like Baby’s. You slid across to the passenger side, letting Cas sit behind the wheel, even though you’d be the one driving the conversation to start. The two of you sat in silence for a tense minute, just watching the snow fall, far enough apart that you weren’t even touching. Your breath in the enclosed space warmed the air, and you let the blanket fall from around your shoulders. When you couldn’t stand the quiet any longer, you finally broke it.

“Dean explained what happened the other night.”

In all the battles you’d shared with the angel, you’d never seen him so petrified. His throat constricted as he swallowed, and his eyes darted around the enclosed space.

“I know you were trying to get up the courage to say something to me or ask me something, and you took Dean’s advice, which was a bit stupid, and it all went wrong. I know, and I understand. If I were as brave as you, I might have made the same mistake. But I’ve been too scared to even consider trying.”

You pulled his right hand into your left and intertwined your fingers, encasing them both with your right hand. Cas’s eyes were wide, his face flushed, and his mouth a thin line. A shaky smile as you looked into his eyes made him take a deep breath.

“Cas, I’m scared to say it, first, so I need you to be brave and tell me. If you do, I promise not to run away or laugh or call you names or any of the things you’re afraid will happen. But I need you to  **say it. I can see you want to** , and I want to hear it.”

Cas’s hand tightened in yours and he straightened up in the seat, pulling more air into his lungs while his eyes stayed glued to yours. “Y/N, I have had feelings about you that I don’t always understand since the moment we met. I constantly want to be closer to you, and I feel bad when I see other men where I want to be.”

Your smile was getting brighter, and it was boosting Cas’s confidence. His voice lost the almost imperceptible waver it had had when he started, and his words came out faster.

“I want to make you smile every day. I want to hear you laugh every day. I want to hold you and touch you and kiss you like no one else ever has, and make you feel like the most loved human in existence. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night. I want to stand in front of every monster you hunt so you don’t have to face them. I want to comfort you when you’re sad and heal your every hurt.”

He shifted on the seat so he could be closer to you, moving his left hand up to your head and caressing your cheek. “I think I love you.”

Completely entranced in his gaze, you whimpered, “I think I love you, too, Cas.”

His lips landed on yours gently, just moving against you until you both worked out your rhythm and moved together. Your hands left his and wound around his neck, flitting through the short hairs on the back of his head on their way to his shoulders, where you held on for dear life. As your lips met, again and again, he pushed you up against the passenger side door, pressing closer and closer to you. He finally let you breathe, going from overwhelming your mouth to tasting your skin, nibbling and sucking his way down your neck. When the position seemed to prevent him from getting to the areas of your skin he wanted to taste, he pulled you away from the door, lifting you and settling you over his lap.

You nearly hit your head on the hard top of the car, but Cas obviously knew what he was doing, so you were saved a headache. The two of you were now almost on the passenger side, you straddling his lap while his hands squeezed your hips, pulling you down so your center met the hard line of him in his pants. Draped over him, you bit at his earlobe, tugging at it while his hands moved up and under your shirt until he found your bra strap and released the hooks. Heat radiated throughout your body as his hands found your breasts, grasping them and plucking at your nipples.

“I think,” he grumbled against your skin as you moaned into his ear, “that maybe we should take this somewhere more private… oh,  _fuck_.”

Hearing the profanity fall from his lips somehow ramped everything up even further for you, knowing that you were doing this to him. You were making him lose control to the point where he was cursing. You were the one making him so hard the pressure against you was almost painful. The throbbing between your legs increased and you realized you could definitely come like this. He just needed to  _keep going_.

“ **Thinking? Highly overrated** ,” you groaned, increasing the pace of your grinding against him. The sound you punched out of him was almost feral, a growl as he thrust his hips up against yours, meeting your intensity with his own. Your hands scrabbled at his tie, pulling it loose and fumbling with the buttons in his shirt, suddenly  _needing_  to feel his skin. You didn’t get further than your hands on his shoulders, though, when he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and groaned, the vibrations sending a shock of heat down your spine. It met the insistent pressure rubbing against your clit and you exploded in his arms.

Cas held your head against his shoulder as wave after wave of feeling swept through you. You convulsed in his arms, your cries muffled by his many layers of clothing, none of which you’d managed to really move out place, much less remove. As your pleasure crested and waned, you felt his hips stutter underneath you as all the air left his lungs in a strangled rush of noise that sounded almost like your name. Your movements slowed as you both came down, and Cas loosened his hold so he could kiss you again.

Lips languidly moved against lips as your hearts returned to a more normal rhythm. Eventually, you settled in his arms, just enjoying the warmth that radiated from him as he held you close. The chill of the approaching evening and the falling snow made a little shiver run through you even with Cas’s heat surrounding you, and you felt his hand move just before the garage doors closed noisily behind you.

Your knees started to creak a little, 63-year old springs digging into them a bit, and you shifted to sit next to him. You awkwardly put your bra and shirt back in place and tried not to look at the wet patch on his pants with too much pride. Once you were settled on the seat, snuggled under his arm, you chuckled.

“ **Well, that’s one for the record books** ,” you joked. “First time I ever had sex with someone, and they didn’t lose a single article of clothing!”

Cas’s cheeks burned bright red as he smiled at you, a loving gleam in his eyes. “Well, it was the best sex I’ve ever had, so I’m not complaining,” he said in that deep grumbling tone that always sent a thrill through you. “Perhaps it had more to do with loving the other person than the amount of clothing involved?”

Heat filled your face at the compliment, and your brain scrambled to believe everything that was happening. This was literally your dream come true. Everything you’d ever wanted was right here, in this car, telling you that you were everything, too. Trying to come up with a response, the most unexpected thought fell into your brain and immediately out of your mouth without you having any control over it.

“Why was there grapefruit pulp on your angel blade, anyway?”


End file.
